


Blood on Cotton

by Stark_Black



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Black/pseuds/Stark_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro and Sanji fight, and then they make up. Yup, that's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on Cotton

**Author's Note:**

> For CapsuleCorp on y!gal. Thank you for your donation! 
> 
> Please to be enjoying a little rougher side of Zosan. (Well, for me anyway :D)

The bottom of Sanji’s left shoe shrieked harshly as he was pushed across the deck. He held his ground, his stance frozen as his right foot blocked a long steel blade. When his back hit the railing, Sanji pulled his hands from his pockets and pushed, straightening his leg. He used the leverage and the strength of his opponent to flip backwards, landing easily on the rigging. 

The swordsman didn’t miss a step. He swung, slicing through rope and wire, taking Sanji’s footing out from underneath him. The cook leapt again, just in time, and landed on the deck below.

“Gotta be faster than that, asshole,” he sneered.

A heavy boot slammed onto the deck mere inches from where Sanji had landed, and steel sang over the blond’s head. Zoro wasn’t kidding around. He was pissed. This was turning into a real fight.

Sanji was okay with this because he was furious too.

“You’re dead, cook.”

Biting down on a cigarette that had long since burned out, Sanji snickered. “Not likely.”

Sparks flew as _Wado’s_ blade contacted with the heel of Sanji’s left shoe. Folded and plated steel screamed as the two pirates threw whatever they had left at each other. Frustration fueled their battle, rage boiled in their veins. Sanji got one good kick into Zoro’s side, and the swordsman managed to slice a perfect line down one sleeve of Sanji’s jacket. When the cook took a moment to glance at the damage, he wasn’t sure which was more annoying: the fact that he was going to need stitches, or that his jacket was basically ruined. 

Actually, that wasn’t much of a question. It was definitely the ruined jacket.

“Maybe if you just learned to keep your damn mouth shut sometimes,” Zoro growled.

Sanji ducked a particularly violent swing and braced himself on his hands. He swept out with his leg but Zoro jumped, easily dodging.

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a fucking dumbass,” Sanji replied.

This would have gone on for much longer, hours perhaps, maybe into the next morning, but their fight was interrupted. Long rubber arms came around cook and swordsman alike and when both men where immobilized, Luffy’s voice stopped their struggling.

“Okay you two, fight’s over. You’re destroying my ship.”

Sanji peered out from the folds of rubber skin to find Luffy standing there. He was not angry, at least he didn’t seem angry. He merely stood, his face passive, almost bored as he waiting until his first mate and cook settled down and released their tension.

Both men fell to the floor with a _plop_ as Luffy released them. Sanji righted himself immediately, dusting himself off and pulling out a cigarette. Zoro stayed where he was, taking slow, deep breaths and running his thumb over the hilt of his sword. 

“Can I leave you two alone now?” Luffy asked.

Sanji shrugged. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Luffy glanced from Sanji, to Zoro, and back again. His stance relaxed and his mouth turned up in a smile. “Cool, does that mean it’s time to eat?”

Chuckling softly, Sanji nodded and turned toward the galley. “Yeah, Luffy, I’ll start getting dinner ready.”

Closing the door behind him, Sanji sighed. He passed by the fridge and the ovens, snubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray Robin had bought him a few islands back. He had no intention of cooking right then, he had prepped the meal earlier that day and there was no reason to start it early. Besides, he had to see to his arm, and his fucking jacket.

He carefully pulled his arm from the torn sleeve, grimacing more from the damaged fabric than any real pain. A few drops of blood marred the otherwise pristine floor, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t the first time blood had been spilled in his kitchen.

“God damnit…” 

There was nothing to do. The sleeve was sliced from shoulder seam to cuff. A patch job would never be enough, there would always be the line and the shoulder would dip. Tossing the ruined jacket on the counter, the cook glanced at his arm. He should probably see to the cut. At least wrap it or something.

He hadn’t heard the galley door open, or close. Zoro’s hand on his hip, the other on his injured arm, were a surprise. Sanji hissed at the sting, but tilted his head back as Zoro’s lips came down on his neck.

“Sorry…” the swordsman said.

The frustration, the rage, and the annoyance Sanji had been feeling only moments before, evaporated. His body relaxed into Zoro’s strong build. His back and his thighs pressed against tense muscle. He tilted his head to the side, giving Zoro room to push into the curve between his jaw and his throat.

“You fucking ruined it,” he said, “Fucking jacket is toast.”

Zoro ran his thumb over the bloodied cut and Sanji hissed again. Adrenaline shot through him. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Zoro’s lips on his skin and his eyes slid closed.

“Don’t care about your fucking jacket,” Zoro said. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t bleed all over the place without me.”

Sanji sighed, pushing his hips back into Zoro’s arousal. His mouth turned up in a small smile. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Zoro released Sanji’s arm, and took ahold of the shirt fabric directly below the shoulder seam. He pulled once, violently, tearing the sleeve completely off. The swordsman dropped the piece of bloody, blue cotton on the floor and pushed Sanji’s hips into the counter roughly.

Pushing back, Sanji ground his ass against Zoro’s erection. He raised his arm and slid fingers through the swordsman’s coarse hair. He felt Zoro’s hot tongue on the line of his wound, lapping up the blood like a hungry dog.

“What were we fighting about again?”

“No idea,” Zoro’s voice was heavy, his breath labored. Sanji’s body and his blood did that to him.

Turning to look at the swordsman over his shoulder, Sanji arched his back and said slyly, “You gonna fuck me or what? I got shit to do.”

Zoro’s eyes flashed, and he ran the back of his hand over the tiny bit of blood on his lips. He said nothing, only leaned back to tug at Sanji’s slacks, pulled them roughly down to the cook’s thighs. Sanji grinned, watching as Zoro unbuttoned his own and pulled his dick out. The swordsman spit in his hand, rubbing himself slick, paying no mind that there was still a little blood in his mouth.

“You’re nasty,” Sanji whispered.

Zoro said nothing, pulled the cook’s hips to his and pushed in.

It was always so rough, but it was just the way Sanji liked it, with Zoro anyway. The pleasure outweighed the discomfort he would feel later, it always did. When he came he threw his head back and clamped down on a satisfied moan. He jerked himself roughly as Zoro leaned over him, continuing to thrust into him brutally for another few seconds. With a whisper of Sanji’s name, and a press of his hot mouth against the cook’s neck, Zoro’s movements stopped and his body shuddered. His hand returned to Sanji’s arm, his thumb dragged over the cut. 

They stayed that way for another minute or so, just breathing, letting their bodies come down, their limbs stop shaking.

Finally, Sanji shifted underneath Zoro’s weight.

“Get off me,” he said, “I have to make dinner.”

Zoro pulled away obediently. He was always compliant right after sex. Sometimes it was nice.

Sanji turned around and pulled his pants back up. He secured his belt and started to unbutton his shirt. No way he was walking around in tatters.

Zoro’s lips on his was a surprise and not entirely unwelcome.

The swordsman’s tongue slid against his and Sanji found himself tilting his head to get in deeper. They didn’t kiss often, so when the opportunity arose, Sanji took it for whatever he could get. He liked kissing. Zoro’s lips were rough and chapped, but they still slid over the cook’s in a way that said many things, most of which Sanji did not want to think about. He wouldn’t.

When they pulled apart, Zoro’s hand hovered over Sanji’s wound once again.

“I’m sorry.”

Sanji smiled. “No you’re not.”

Shaking his head, Zoro nodded towards the counter. “No, I mean I’m sorry for the jacket.”

Sanji couldn’t help but laugh. He put his hands on Zoro’s chest and pushed him away.

“Get the fuck out of here. Take a shower before you come back to eat.”

Zoro sighed, rested a hand on the hit of one of his three swords and turned to leave.

However, Sanji didn’t miss the smile that pulled at his lips.

END


End file.
